Savior
by dawnmei
Summary: Ray and Neela, plot as the title indicates, with a second part.
1. Chapter 1

A/N - This is very different from what I've written in the past, especially in terms of style. I tried to get the idea across without being too specific. Hope it worked.

Ray Barnett stepped, rather gratefully, from the frigid, biting wind, into the relative comfort of his apartment building. Starting his shift in the afternoon, the sun had been shining, giving the illusion of warmth that did not exist. Now, on the well-darkened streets after midnight, there was no way to deny the bone-chilling cold of Chicago. The fact that their heater worked intermittently, occasionally choosing to expire in the early hours of the morning, was preferable to the outside conditions. Withdrawing his hands from the safety of his pockets, he punched the elevator button multiple times before giving up and beginning the trek upstairs to his apartment.

Their apartment, he supposed. Neela had moved in a few months ago, originally planning to work shifts opposite him. In the beginning, they literally ran into one another a couple of times a week, but recently the rotations had changed. He'd come off a long shift to find her already asleep, or part of their 24 hours off would overlap. She complained about his band's practices and he was not as neat as she'd prefer, but they'd watched some movies together, even ordered a pizza or two, and decided each could tolerate the company of the other.

As he pushed open the door from the stairwell to his fifth floor hallway, he admitted the flights of stairs had warmed him up considerably. Unwrapping his scarf with one hand, he fished in his pocket for his keys with the other. He entered quietly, knowing Neela has gotten off hours ago and was probably sleeping. But as he walked through the darkened apartment, he heard laughter coming from Neela's bedroom…her's and a deeper baritone. Smiling to himself, he felt almost proud of Neela. It was usually he who entertained in the bedrooms.

Neela had finished an incredibly long, incredibly intense shift just before eight that evening. Her mind had been elsewhere when she agreed to go out for drinks with some of the nurses; she wanted to do nothing more than forgot this shift had ever existed. But they were persistent and arguing would have only made the day worse. So after one plate of appetizers and what equaled a six pack of beers, Neela found herself dancing with a very tall and broad jock-type, the sort she would never had pictured herself with had she not consumed the amount of alcohol she had. Dancing led to a walk home, a walk home led to an invitation, and the invitation led to what she was now experiencing…a make out session that reminded her of what she had missed in college as a serious pre-med and med student.

The young man was a football player, which she assumed meant he was still in college. And his name, which she couldn't quite remember at the moment, also indicated he was young, just enough to give her pause. But she moved on, persuaded by his attentions to her, her response to him, and helped significantly by the buzz the alcohol had created. Currently, she had regained enough of her brain to know they were both lying down on her bed, both partially clothed, laughing over something that she didn't understand, but he found extraordinarily funny.

And then he shifted to be on top of her, more directly, in her line of sight, and seemed to overwhelm her. The rational part of her mind, which had only recently asserted itself, found him entirely too big, too assertive, too _wrong_ for her tonight. And so she halted things, quietly at first, but he either didn't hear or didn't take her seriously. So she spoke up again, much louder, much more clearly, but he only became more aggressive, more insistent. Moving against him, trying to get him off her, trying to stop what was happening; she became louder and stronger, but was still easily under his control. Shouting, crying out, she forcefully used the basic, clear words she knew he wouldn't respond to, as he was enjoying her struggle as much as his plans for what was to come.

At first she thought she had only imagined the loud noise at her door, was confused by another male voice. But then, blessedly, she felt his oppressive force leave her, heard the voices arguing and what she assumed were bodies being banged against each other, and against the apartment walls. Interested only slightly where her assailant had gone, she was flooded with relief at the fact that he had been removed from her bedroom and, for all intents and purposes, from her life. Turning to her side, she drew her knees to her chest, warding off not only the chill in the air, but also the thoughts of how dramatically her life had nearly been altered.

The final shove Ray gave sent him down at least the first flight of stairs. Returning to their apartment, Ray locked every lock they had, double checking, and then leaning against the door as he attempted to slow his breathing. His senses alert the minute he heard his roommate's protests, adrenaline had kicked in as he unceremoniously ushered the interloper from their lives. He felt a stickiness collecting in the corner of his mouth and tenderness around his eye and cheek, evidence that he too had not escaped the encounter unscathed.

Neela heard footsteps in the hall returning to her room, footsteps she was used to hearing in the apartment. Eyes filled with unshed tears, she could make out the silhouette of her roommate, backlit from the hall, leaning against her doorframe. Moments ago he had entered without a thought, now he seemed hesitant to cross such a personal boundary. She shuddered at the thought of him, of anyone, seeing her like this, and then gave in as the shivers that racked her body and tears streamed down her face, a physical release for her tightly held emotions.

He crossed her room then, illuminated only by a small lamp, averting his eyes from her embarrassment, and folded the bed's comforter so it covered her more than the bed. He sat by her, somewhat awkwardly, rubbing her shoulder, striving to provide both comfort and privacy. Minutes passed, and when he thought she was spent, he wiped the final tears from her eyes.

"Tea?" he asked.

"Okay," she responded.

He stood over her, nervously, protectively, prepared to escort her to the living room and beyond.

With great effort and precision, she raised herself to a sitting position, carefully holding the comforter around her, relying on him to guide her.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N - When I wrote the first part of this a while back, I thought it was complete. I didn't know there was more to the story until this floated into my brain earlier today. I hope the writing styles are similar enough with the time (and brain) lapse.

As he brought the water to a boil, Ray was grateful he endured the 30 minute lecture several weeks ago on the proper way to prepare a cup of tea. At this hour of the morning his mind was a little fuzzy on some of the specifics, but he thought he had mastered the general principals. He hoped it would bring some measure of comfort to Neela. He'd run through the body's symptoms of shock in his mind, and physically she seemed all right, yet her mind, as usual, was impenetrable. Their barely comfortable relationship as roommates had just gotten even more unnerving.

Her hands tightly gripped the comforter around her, shield-like, though she'd managed to make sure all essential clothing was covering the essential places. Tremors still shot through her body every minute or so, despite the fact that, for once, the heater seemed to be in perfect working order. Her mind, desperate from catching fragments of random, unthinkable thoughts, had settled on the city lights shining outside the window. If she squinted her eyes she could make them look like diamonds. If she clouded her memory enough, she could deny this evening's events.

Taking a deep breath and a cup of tea in each hand, he made his way slowly to the couch and held out the warm drink. Buried under the bedding, he wasn't sure she would take it, but eventually a hand emerged. His query, "You want anything else?" was answered with a brief shake of her head, and then he had to determine what to do next. Seating options were limited to the couch, where she sat squarely in the middle and he would end up closer to her than she might like, or a chair several feet away, where he would feel more ineffective than he currently did. He settled for perching on the couch's arm, feet on the cushions, the most ridiculous choice he could have made, he decided. Hovering over her, she appeared smaller and more vulnerable than before.

Neela sipped the warm liquid and when she realized it was extremely close to how she made it herself, a fleeting smile crossed her face and the notion of gratitude lodged in her mind. Her roommate's instincts in this situation were better than her own would be were the situation, not reversed, but somehow comparable. Moving gingerly, she slid across the couch, still hunched over herself, and with the opened space offered, "Sit." She refused to meet his eyes, but the shifting of the cushions told her he had. The tea was soothing, but she drank it slowly, prolonging the occupation of her mind and body with such a simple, repetitive task.

His cup was empty long before hers and his mind searched for something, anything he could say that would remotely convey the proper sentiments. He struggled to determine how the situation could possibly be improved by any words that came from his mouth, and decided it couldn't. Remaining silent seemed his best option. Leaning back against the couch, he inhaled sharply when he moved at an angle that reminded him that he had not remained unscathed either. Probing gently with his hand along his abdomen he diagnosed a bruised, not broken, rib. All of his wounds would heal rapidly compared to hers.

The tea had a calming effect and a yawn escaped from Neela's lips before she thought to stifle it. She glanced quickly at her roommate and he was watching her, as she assumed had been and would continue to be. "I'm not going to sleep in there," she stated defiantly, daring him to challenge her. Even she recognized that a protest that she was not tired would hold no weight. The adrenaline that had rushed throughout her body and had left just as quickly and rendered her exhausted. Yet her bedroom was a more formidable opponent than she was currently willing to face. "I'll stay here tonight. What's left of it."

"Okay," he said uncertainly, wondering if his presence was necessary or even desired any longer, yet reluctant to remove himself of his own accord, needing to be there even if he was no longer needed. He reached a hand towards her, intended to take her empty cup, and she startled as though she'd been unaware he was in the room with her. Watching her head drop to her hands and tears creep down her cheeks, he silently cursed himself for evoking such a reaction. "I'm sorry, Neela. I didn't….I'm sorry." Ineloquent as usual, Barnett, he reproached himself. Standing, he intended to rectify the situation. "I'll leave you to…"

"No! I'm scared!" Her hand reached out for his and the words flew from her mouth faster and louder than she had intended. Mortified by this, as much as anything else that had transpired she stumbled over words, trying to explain herself. "You scared me, just now, but not you, I'm on edge, it was just all of a sudden and I…" The flow of tears stopped the flow of words and she had to breathe deeply several times before starting again. She felt him sit beside her on the couch again and his hand rose to her shoulder. "I'm glad you were here before. And now. You don't have to be, but it's…it's better with you here."

"Okay," he said, as he nodded with complete understanding. He gently moved his hand to her other shoulder, wrapping his arm around her. She leaned into him, imperceptibly at first, but more so as he pulled her towards him and the back of the couch. He noticed she curled her feet up with her and shuddered as though chilled. Tightening his arm around her he spoke, "Okay. Then I'm right here."


End file.
